


St Patricks 2007 Requests

by Merfilly



Category: DCU - Comicverse, DCU Animated
Genre: Multi, St. Patrick's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-03-17
Updated: 2007-03-17
Packaged: 2017-12-06 16:59:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/738006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merfilly/pseuds/Merfilly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Various requested ficlets</p>
            </blockquote>





	St Patricks 2007 Requests

Bludhaven was a lost cause now, even if Blockie was dead.

Somehow, he could no bring himself to care. He was through laying blame on his own shoulders. He was doing something that mattered now, getting in thick with Slade to make his life matter. He would unravel the mystery that his former ally and forever adversary was wrapped up in.

Even if it killed him.

With that thought firmly in mind, he slammed down the last beer he had found in the fridge and went to clean up. 

Slade liked his lovers clean, and Dick wasn't passing up the opportunity to use old tricks to learn new intel.

* * *

Wildcat ducked under the first punch, and nearly laughed out loud when his partner at his side threw one to knock the German back. She was a feisty little blonde, and he was glad he had gotten to fly in with her squad to this little island.

"Use your fists a little more, and less footwork, would you? Almost broke a nail on that one," she teased, her little skirt flaring out to where he could almost see the color of her panties with her next kick.

"Was trying to save the beer," he shot back, before using said beer to splash in the eyes of an oncoming brute.

"We'll hoist a new one up in the good ol' U. S. of A," she laughed, stealing a kiss between opponents.

Wildcat just grinned, thinking of other things to hoist in Lady Blackhawk's company.

* * *

Dick wrinkled his nose at the food in the fridge. It all looked vaguely wrong to him, for the healthy feeding of a kid. 

But Roy didn't have an Alfred to keep Lian fed properly, had learned on the fly how to care for her in the most basic ways.

He managed to dig past the half eaten containers of spaghetti-o's and hot dog packages to find the two bottles of beer. With a shake of his head, he went back to Roy and settled in his space.

The archer just grunted, half-asleep from a night of tending an earache for Lian, and then three bank robberies in one day that required meta takedowns.

Dick just set the beers on the coffee table, and curled into his friend, partner, and lover, forgetting their other plans to just hold him through solid sleep.

* * *

Robin eyed the drink, a very bright orange color, with suspicion.

"It won't bite. I turned twenty-one today, my father has been on a case all week, and I want someone to share my first legal drink with me." The saucy redhead grinned in challenge.

"I'm not legal," Robin pointed out, though he knew good and well she had figured that part out.

"Neither is what we do on the rooftops, or in the streets," she pointed out, her voice sliding over the rooftop bit enough to make him blush.

"Cheers?" he said, picking the drink up as she grabbed hers.

"Cheers." Both swallowed them down, and then Batgirl purred at the warm feeling.

Her purring increased when Robin added his own brand of warmth, kissing her intently.

"Happy birthday."

* * *

Roy had somewhat understood when Ollie and Connor vanished after beating the baddie. He appreciated that Ollie had come back and found him, before going to Dinah.

He also knew that was a piece of cowardice on Ollie's part, after the conversation in the plane. With his full memories back, Ollie better understood why Dinah had reacted so poorly, but it did not make it any easier.

Still, Roy shoved all those thoughts away, picked up his beer, and clinked it to Ollie's.

"Congrats, old man, for proving my point." Roy grinned mischievously.

"What point?" Ollie asked, suspiciously eyeing that old grin of his former ward's.

"For being so damn ornery, heaven kicked you out, and hell wasn't about to let you in."

That got them both laughing again, as they settled at the bar, and watched the latest fight on pay per view.

* * *

Tim was drunk.

Not even a little soused, but properly drunk off his ass. 

And Kon thought he was beautiful like that, even if it was not something he wanted to see often.

It had been an attempt on Kon's part to get him past the stoicism, the weepiness, the clinging, and the insane Bat-shit. 

Tim just had not taken the return very well, despite being happier than ever in his life. He just had not been able to process that he had a second chance, that Kon was back and had claimed him, not Cassie.

Hence, the remedy of drinking past inhibitions, which had led to Tim looking all flushed, flirty, and simply wanton.

No, Kon would not do this to Tim often, but right now, he just enjoyed the sight.

* * *

Babs had been sulky enough concerning the abrupt departure of her best friend and primary operative without being hassled by the man who dropped into the chair opposite her in the restaurant. There was no way he could know who she was, she told herself, other than her public guise as the daughter of Gotham's Police Commissioner. That meant…

"Easy, girl." The charismatic man looked at her through one good eye. "I just want information, and you are **the** one to go to for that." He sipped at the bourbon he had brought over.

//Shit, he does know…// "Excuse me, Mister…" She idly twirled the straw in her White Russian.

"Please." He did not roll his eye, but it was implied by tone of voice. "Just one simple question, easy for you to answer. My word, I'm not here to take you down…not today."

Babs did not relax at that; she was not one to automatically trust the word of an insane psychopath, unlike a blonde and brunette she could name. "What is it, Wilson?"

"Is Dinah absolutely out of her mind?"

The question took Barbara completely off guard, and led to an afternoon spent bitching in the company of the world's most feared mercenary.

* * *

Clark looked sheepishly at Bruce as they stood in the Cave, once everything was over and done. They had met back here to discuss the ramifications of what had happened while split.

"Drink this." Bruce handed him a tumbler with a smoky amber liquid.

"I don't…

"Drink." Bruce downed one of his own as Clark obeyed him.

After the drink, while Clark was reeling at the smooth burn down his throat, he really could not protest the intense kiss that Bruce pressed to his lips.

Somehow talk seemed less important than the physical reassurance Bruce initiated.

It was certainly more pleasant than most of their conversations had been recently.

* * *

It had been one night.

Shayera had enjoyed that one night, far too much. And now, watching him drink with her and John and Wally, in a bar on the other side of the galaxy, she realized she wanted more than one night.

Maybe a month of nights.

Or just an open license to take him on, when she needs a man able to actually make her _feel_.

He glances up, catches her eye…and winks. He makes an excuse and heads up to their quarters on this world.

It's not ten minutes later before she's leaving too, her destination clearly marked in her mind as his room.

* * *

Ravager focused the binoculars, watching as the team she was surveilling handled yet another threat. It amused her to no end that the team danced to her father's orders, completely unknown to them. 

The thing that caught her eye now, though, was the blatant hostility/lust radiating between the woman in purple and Daddy's pet ex-Titan. The two of them were doing an elaborate dance of supposedly being able to work together and ignore their past.

Ravager just snickered as she put away her gear; Daddy would be very amused at the latest turn of events, she was sure.

* * *

He had been there to take out one of the people in the building when the hostage situation erupted. With the federal agencies swarming, he decided it was best to hold back his shot, wait for the crowds to clear, and take advantage of the confusion later, when the SWAT team ended it.

Then he saw a familiar redhead working with one of the agencies. He saw a quiet argument between one of the agents and his redhead. He watched in silent curiosity as the redhead lifted his rifle to his shoulder. A quick glance back at the building, and a gauge of the factors involved told the assassin this was some surreal dream. Harper was an archer, Harper was a Titan, and that was a near-impossible shot besides.

The gun rang out its call of death, and Slade could only watch in admiration as the hostages were freed by a single bullet from an archer's rifle.

* * *

"She's misguided."

"She's her father's child."

The winged woman glared at the Amazon. "You would condemn that girl to falling deeper and deeper into the path of death because she is the daughter of a psychopath, instead of trying to help her out of it?"

"Have you not read what that man did to the Teen Titans over the years?"

"She is not her father." Shayera reached out and touched Diana's cheek. "Doesn't she deserve as much of a chance as you gave me?"

Diana sighed softly. "Very well, Shayera. We will take this child Rose in, and see if we can reform her."

* * *

Joey sat back in his chair, watching as his friends, new and old, settled into their own little groups. Raven and Cyborg were talking quietly to Beast Boy, trying to get him to come home, while Cassie and his sister conversed in very low tones about Cassie having been willing to defend her.

But the pair that most interested him was Dick and Roy. The pair had been almost inseparable since arriving to the reunion party. He watched the way their eyes stayed on one another, watched them sit so close, no matter who they spoke to. Not even Donna had been able to distract one away from the other.

Joey decided that he rather approved of what he saw, as he sat there, Lian soundly sleep on his chest.

* * *

He had not stopped shaking yet. The more he thought about it, the worse it seemed to get. 

("Just stay down,") echoed in his head, said in those deep tones that seduced and terrified all at once.

("Don’t get up.") Those words, in the voice of a man who had been friend, teammate, lover…Roy's shaking progressed to the point that he was instinctively scratching at old track marks.

Green eyes without a single fleck of gold closed as the tears came. For all that he had offered himself over the years, Dick had chosen the man Roy most hated in life now.

In avoiding becoming the Bat, he had become the Terminator instead.


End file.
